Fist Fight
by bisexualcharliedavis
Summary: Charlie thought he was going win against Hobart? Charlie Davis, whom he'd once seen lock himself in the mens bathroom so no one would hear him cry after he got a paper cut, thought he was going to win against Hobart, who literally beat people for (as far as he could tell) fun? PART ONE: About Charlie Davis


/Warnings: Mentions of police brutality, fist fighting, depictions of violence.

Hello darkness, my old friend. And by darkness I mean tiny fandoms. And comments questions or concerns feel free to contact me. Leave a review if you're that way inclined, I know everyone says that but it really does make my day.

"Uh, Boss?" Charlie asked, scratching the back of his wrist idly. Lawson looked up at him, and raised any eyebrow. Charlie sounded uncharacteristically nervous. Sure, he always seemed to be sad, but nervous, that was new.

"Yes, Davis?" he asked, when Charlie didn't start right away.  
"I...Uh...I challenged Hobart to a duel." Lawson started choking on his own spit when Charlie started, and it took a whole minute for him to get himself under control again.

"You what?!" He demanded.  
"I...Finally caught him in the act of beating one of the suspects, and I yelled at him and then I sort of...Kind of….Well I told him if he wanted fight them to meet me outside in the courtyard in like fifteen minutes." He said, all in a rush. Despite having been in Ballarat for some months now, Lawson had never heard Charlie say so much in one go, least of all to him.  
"That...Doesn't sound like my problem." He said, after a moment. He didn't really want to be involved in the death of a young constable. Regardless of how annoying he could be sometimes.

"Well it's not but I was wondering if you'd like to watch?" He asked, "I need someone to hold my coat, start the fight...And uh, promise not to arrest me for street fighting." He said, after a slight pause. Lawson raised his eyebrow and finally started to show an interest.

Charlie thought he was going win against Hobart? Charlie Davis, whom he'd once seen lock himself in the mens bathroom so no one would hear him cry after he got a paper cut, thought he was going to win against Hobart, who literally beat people for (as far as he could tell) fun? Sure, he agreed Davis was uptight as Hell and probably needed a good punch in the head, but really? "Alright." He said, after a moment. "Fine. I'll hold your coat." Charlie let out a small sigh, "But I'll only promise not to arrest you if you win." Charlie nodded. That sounded fair to him.

Lawson went outside about six minutes later to find Charlie sitting on the bench with a tea cup, having what he thought was probably tea. "Where's Hobart?" He asked, looking around. Maybe Hobart knew that fighting Charlie was unfair. Maybe he understood that Charlie was not a fair fight? Charlie set his tea cup down and curled his lips in slightly, before taking off his outer shirt, and offering it to Lawson, who took it with a bemused expression. He also took off his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. He offered no response.

He didn't have too, because Hobart was walking towards them like a bat out of Hell. He looked angry. Lawson moved away so Charlie could see what he was fighting. Hobart virtually towered over the slightly shorter Davis, and had a lot more muscle then Charlie could ever hope to have. Charlie was a runner, as far as Lawson knew. He ran for fun. He ran after criminals. Not a fighter. "Hobart I'd like to remind you that this is not a duel to the death. Melbourne won't appreciate me sending Davis home in a box." Hobart just grunted in his general direction as a response. "Alright then." Lawson commented, and was tempted to look away so he wouldn't have to see Davis beat to a bloody pulp. The fact that he only looked about 23 didn't help either. Before Hobart could do anything, Charlie started talking. Lawson hoped it would be to try and get out of this fight.

"Look, you want to take that coat off, I know it's black but it's difficult to get blood out of it." Apparently facing certain death made Charlie chatty because Lawson cannot remember a time when Charlie's had this much to say, save maybe his hurling abuse at Blake, and possibly telling him off. "And uh, the tie puts you at a disadvantage. Something for me to grab, you know?" He offered. Hobart growled at him,

"Davis you need all the advantages you can get." Lawson called out to Charlie, who shrugged.

"Well I suppose it's not my problem."

He turned to face Hobart, who punched him square in the face. Charlie stumbled back, and his face darkened. His grey eyes became impossibly more grey, and he looked rightly pissed off. Hobart looks at him, as if to say 'you ready...Mate', Charlie kicked him in the stomach before he could throw a second punch. A trickle of blood as escaped his nose, and Hobart doubles over he wiped it with his hand, smearing it on his cheek rather then wiping it away. "That's not how you fight someone, dickhead." Charlie said, and neatly moved away from Hobart's sloppy at a hit back. "You have to wait for the third party to say go." he said, and smashed his elbow over Hobart's head as he tried to get back up. Charlie must have knocked him off balance because he fell down and landed on the ground. Charlie stopped and let him get up.

When Hobart charged at him, angry and yelling, Charlie simply stepped to the side, and twisted around in time to grab his fist before he could delivered another blow onto his face, and twisted his hand fiercely, as Hobart's face twisted in a mirroring pain.

He released Hobart's hand only after using his knee to jab Hobart in the stomach. Hobart staggered backwards, and Charlie kicked him in the shins, and he fell again. "Get up." Charlie said, in a dangerously icy tone. Hobart did and threw a punch in Charlie's direction. He got a hit, but Charlie managed to punch him back after, and Hobart's nose cracked. He hit him again, this time in the chest, and something that Lawson is very sure is not meant to crack, cracked. He staggered backwards, and Charlie lent over to punch him in the jaw, twice.

Hobart fell again, this time his cry was in pain. Charlie drove his foot into his ribs twice, before stopping.

"Get up." he told Hobart, who groaned on the floor.  
"You win, Davis, you win!" He said, as Charlie starred menacingly at him.

"I told you to get up." He said, his voice was soft, but menacing. It made Lawson shiver, because Charlie looked like he was plotting murder, after launching a missile into another country and starting another three World Wars. The blood had dripped onto Charlie's shirt and would be hard to clean, he seems more annoyed about his bloody shirt, after all his preparations to not get blood on his clothes then he did about having a possibly broken nose.

Hobart looked at Lawson with desperate eyes. Lawson stared back at him, Charlie seemed to have some kind of strange honor system thing going on and he wasn't going risk a beating as well.  
Charlie drove his foot into Hobart's stomach. "What part of get up don't you understand?" He shouted, grabbing Hobart by the back of the shirt and dragging him up to look him in the face. "How many times did you stop, because someone asked you?" He shouted, before throwing him aside with a strength that Lawson didn't know he possessed.

Hobart, by some miracle managed to get to his feet, only for Charlie to punch him in the face and send him sprawling back to the ground, grazing his cheek on the pavement. Charlie rubbed his fist with his other hand. Hobart put his hands out and started to try and get up before his arms shook and gave way.

"Get up." He said, and Lawson felt compelled to take a step back because he had clearly underestimated Charlie. Everyone had.

Hobart groans, but refuses to get up. Charlie stomps on Hobart's hand, and Lawson hears his fingers cracking. "Get up!" Charlie yelled, as Hobart struggled to his feet. He doesn't even try and stop Charlie knocking him to the ground with a knee to the genitals. After waiting almost a whole minute, Charlie starts again.  
"Get up." He said. He didn't even sound tired, or like to the blood on his face bothered him. Hobart shook his head no, and actually started crying. He didn't care. He grabbed Hobart by the shirt front and punched him square in the face, one more time. He threw him to the ground and stood up. "Get up." He said, again. Hobart physically couldn't. Charlie seemed to know this so he squatted down next to him and Lawson think that maybe Charlie is the one who'll be sending Hobart home in a box.

Charlie grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled him up so they were face to face. "It's not fun when they fight back, is it?" he shouted at Hobart, who was sobbing and shaking his head. "It's not fun when they don't stop is it?"He shouted, and threatened to punch Hobart again with his other hand. He drew the downed man even closer then Lawson thought he would dare "I swear to God that if I ever find you, or ever hear even a whisper, or see a suspect beaten without good reason in this station again, then I will break more them your hand, I don't care if I have to come all the way from Melbourne back to here, I will ruin you. do you understand me?" Hobart didn't respond so Charlie tired again. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" He shouted. Sobbing, Hobart nodded. Charlie dropped him on the ground.

"You're a monster." Hobart whispered. Charlie gazed at him for a moment.  
"We both are, Hobart.' He said, finally. He then stood, and turned to face Lawson, who thrust his jacket out at him quickly. Charlie fished his tie out of the pocket, and put it back on, followed by his jacket. He then collected his tea cup, and headed back into the station, leaving Lawson to deal with Hobart.

Lawson called Blake from Hobart's place. After tending to him as well as he could, Blake approached Lawson with raised eyebrows. "Who did this?" He asked, looking Hobart over. Hobart pulled his blanket over his head. Blake raised his eyebrows at Hobart's response, as he left with Lawson, he stopped him outside.

"Is there a suspect I should be tending too?" He asked, looking concerned. If Hobart looked like this, then he couldn't even imagine how bad the other guy must look.

"It wasn't a suspect." Lawson admitted, smiling tightly. Blake frowned.

"He was...Let go?' Lawson shook his head.

"It was Davis." Blake had to stifle a smile because Lawson sounded concerned, but he couldn't see Davis inflicting this kind of cold hearted damage on anyone.

"Not our Charlie Davis who was almost taken out by an elbow to the nose?" He asked,

"Do you know of any other Davis...Davis-es at the station?" Lawson demanded, sounding more then slightly shaken. "I was thinking that Hobart was going to murder the boy in front of me and he goes and does this. It came out of no where. I thought /HE/ was going murder /HOBART/" Lawson said, while using exaggerated hand gestures. Blake can't stop the laugh this time. "It's not funny, Blake!" Lawson said, "Hobart punched him right in the face and he didn't even flinch!" Lawson said,

"Well in that case, I better go and see him then." Blake smiled.

Charlie was at his desk, with a fresh cup of tea typing away on the type writer. His bruised face and knuckles, as well as the blood on his shirt collar were the only sign of what he'd done. Lawson and Blake moved to stand in front of his desk as Charlie lent forward to push his type writer back to the next line. "You promised not to arrest me if I won." He said, looking up, and nodding hello to Blake.  
"Doc." he nodded, "What can I do for you two?" He asked, leaning back to look up. Blake sat down, and Lawson followed his lead.  
"Are you going to tell me what the hell that was out there?" He asked, Charlie pursed his lips for a moment, and considered the pair of them, before shaking his head no.  
"No, I don't think so." He said, and began to type again.  
"Well, at least let me look at your nose, Lawson said Hobart managed to get at least one punch in." Charlie shrugged, and sat back so Blake could infact look at his nose. He checked it carefully, as well as Charlie's knuckles.  
"You gave him quite a beating." He commented, "I'm shocked he got one punch in at all." he said, releasing Charlie's hand from his.  
"It was his own fault. If he didn't want to fight, then he shouldn't have been fighting. Anyway he cheated." Lawson frowned, so did Blake.  
"You...Won?" Charlie nodded,

"Yeah, but he started before the third party said fight." He commented. "So I broke his fingers.' He shrugged.  
"I was skeptical, when Lawson said you thrashed Hobart. I once saw you almost die from choking on lemonade." Lawson had to stifle a laugh. Charlie looked like he wanted to thrash Blake.

"Well, firstly, you scared me, secondly..." He didn't have a way to finish the sentence so he just shrugged.  
"Exactly." Blake said, and gently touched Charlie's nose, causing him to hiss in pain.  
"That hurt." He grumbled, leaning away from him.  
"Well it's not broken." Blake smiled, "But that bruise'll be a nasty one." Charlie shrugged.  
"I've had worse." Charlie offered, and took a sip of his tea. Lawson watched him set the cup back down, and rub his knuckles idly. Blake realized that they wouldn't get any information out of Charlie if he wasn't ready to give it, and stepped out from behind the desk.  
"Well, Charlie. Have you given any thought to lodging." Charlie shrugged lightly.  
"No." He admitted, sounding slightly guilty. "But if you can give me what you suppose the rent would be then I'd know if I can at least afford it not." Lawson left after that, because the conversation just reminded him that Charlie wouldn't be in Ballarat forever.

After leaving Charlie to his work, Blake met Lawson by his car. "Well Matthew, I would say Charlie will live."

"No kidding." Lawson replied, shaking his head. Blake smiled lightly at him.  
"And I would also say he won't tell you anything until he's ready. He might never tell you." Blake said, with a little smile. Lawson laughed slightly.  
"Am I that easy to read?" He offered. Bake nodded.

"Sadly." Lawson took his hat off and ran a hand though his hair.  
"Should I be worried?" he asked, finally.  
"Not unless there's someone else beating the suspects." Blake replied. "Otherwise I think Charlie is mostly harmless." Lawson put his hat back on and shook his head.  
"Mostly harmless. You inspire me with confidence." He said, shaking his head. As Blake drove off, Lawson couldn't help thinking back to Charlie's comment about being a monster, and he couldn't help but wonder who the hell Charlie Davis actually was.


End file.
